Romance In The Hockey Pitch

Butterflies or Not

It was a Monday; practice day for the freshman. I didn’t understand why Coach invited us. We had saved our spots on the team by winning the game on Friday, but the cost was high.

"Listen up!" Coach Mike barked, his whistle hanging from his neck. The younger freshmen players stood in a semi circle."Simpson, Miller. Get over here."

I skated to the center of the ice, my shoulders tight. Jax followed, his skates scraping the ice in a lazy rhythm. He stopped right next to me. Too close. I could feel the heat from his body despite the freezing air.

"The freshmen are struggling with the cross over screen," Coach said, pointing at the goal. "I want you two to demonstrate. Liam, you take the lead. Jax, you’re the screen. Show them how to move as one unit. If you don't touch, the play fails. Get to it."

I looked at Jax. He looked at me. There was no way out.

"Fine," I muttered. "Just don't trip me, Miller."

"Just don't be a statue, Simpson," he shot back.

We started the drill. I had to skate hard toward the net while Jax moved in the opposite direction to block an imaginary defender. To make the screen work, we had to pass each other with less than an inch of space.

As we crossed, Jax’s shoulder slammed into mine.I had always thought of him as the small guy because he was shorter than me, but up close, he was all muscle. His chest broad and his arms thick under his jersey. For a second, I was surprised by how much power he actually had.

"Again!" Coach yelled.

We did it again. This time, I had to grab the back of Jax’s jersey to swing myself around him for the shot. My hand gripped the fabric, and for a split second, I felt the strength of his back muscles tensing. He was a lot stronger than he looked. It was annoying. He was supposed to be the chaotic, messy one, but his body was as disciplined as a professional’s.

Jax reached out to steady me, his gloved hand landing firm on my waist to keep me from sliding. I looked down at him.

"Watch your hands, Captain," Jax whispered, his breath puffing out in a cold cloud.

"I'm just doing the drill, Miller. Relax," I snapped, pulling away. My heart was racing, but I told myself it was just the exercise. He was an annoying rival, and this was just hockey.

"Good! That’s how it’s done!" Coach Mike shouted. "See that? They move together because they trust the system. Take a lap!"

I skated away as fast as I could. Trust? There was no trust.

4:00 PM

After practice, I met Chloe at the campus coffee shop. I needed to see her and remember what my real life looked like.

"You look exhausted, Liam," Chloe said, pushing a steaming latte toward me. She reached across the table and tucked a strand of my blonde hair back. "How is the new place? You haven't sent me any photos."

I sighed, leaning back in the wooden chair. "Because there is nothing to see, Chloe. It’s a tiny, dusty box. And the worst part is Jax."

"Is he still being difficult?" she asked, her voice soft and concerned.

"He’s a nightmare," I said, the words spilling out. "He’s messy. He leaves his hockey gear in the middle of the kitchen. He plays loud music when I’m trying to study. And he’s so... arrogant. He thinks he knows everything about the game."

I didn't tell her about the bed. I couldn't.

"He’s just a transfer, Liam. He’s probably trying to prove himself," Chloe said reasonably. "Maybe if you try to be nice..."

"I am nice," I lied. "But he’s impossible. He sleeps like a log and snores. And he has this way of looking at me... like he knows a secret I don't. I hate it. I just want my old life back. I want to be back in the dorms, away from his stupid smirks."

Chloe laughed gently. "You really do hate him, don't you?"

"More than anything," I said firmly.

I took a sip of my coffee, trying to believe my own words. I looked at Chloe’s pretty face and tried to feel that spark I was supposed to have. But my mind kept drifting back to the ice; the feeling of Jax’s shoulder against mine and the way he hadn't blinked when I looked him in the eye.

My phone buzzed on the table. It was a text from the apartment group chat the Coach had forced us into.

Jax: Heater is broken again. It’s freezing. Bring extra blankets if you have them. Or don't. I don't care.

I stared at the screen.

"Everything okay?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah," I said, forced a smile, and put my phone face down. "Just team stuff. Nothing important."

But as I walked Chloe back to her dorm later that evening, I couldn't stop thinking about the cold apartment. And the fact that there would be nowhere else to go but that one, single bed.